City of Delusion
by Nicejob-Sweetheart
Summary: She was just afraid as anyone could be. She got reaped, in a new world where it wasn't supposed to exist the Games anymore. But that's what the Capitol is, right? The City of Delusion. Alternative end for Mockingjay. Hayffie.


**Hi, welcome to my new delusion! This plot wouldn't get out of my mind so I had to write it down. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the Original Characters**

* * *

**Chapter One:**

The bombs ripped through the air with loud bangs, startling me from my silence. Although I'm far away from the city center and safe from injury, I head down to basement into enclosed shelter. Before the rebellion my mother found the dilapidated building at the edge of the Capitol. It was falling apart, crumbling, but she spent all of her remaining money making the place a safe house for us. Outside, it looks like no one has lived here for ages. The garden isn't taken care of, the painting is faded and peeling, and the glasses of the windows scrubbed with greasy dirt. On the inside, however it's cozy and homey with comfortable furniture and food stock that should last for quite some time.

All of this was for a purpose, my mother and I would be staying here, hidden so the rebels and President Snow couldn't find us. The day before the games started, mother brought me to the safe house and told me to stay where I wouldn't be harmed, that she would come in a couple of days. When the games started I expected her to come, and I waited. She didn't come that day, or the next, or the next. She never made it. So I've kept her promise, I never left the house and no one came in. I was safe, just the way she wanted. And no one would come looking for me. Theorically, I'm dead.

You see, I'm the daughter of Effie Trinket and I've never met my father, nor know who he might be. She would always tell me stories about him, though. Mother used to tell me that he was gone, that they never meant to be together and when she got pregnant, she never told him. "It was one time thing, really" she used to say. I know deep down that she never got over it, she would always leave the room with tears in her eyes.

When I reach my shelter, I make sure to close the door and double check the lock. This is it; the end is near. In a few days I'll be leaving this house to kiss daylight but I'll have no one to go home to. Mother is probably dead; being a part-time rebel and a part-time Capitol socialite wouldn't do to her any good and I'd lost hope a long time ago. I don't hold back the tears itching at the back of my eyes at these thoughts. Instead, I lay on the firm bed and cry myself to sleep.

These bitter thoughts cloud my mind but as I drift away into oblivious sleep I remember the one thing I'd been struggling to forget: it is my birthday. If mother was still alive, we would be celebrating with the burnt cake that she insisted on baking every year. "Perhaps I should take baking lessons with Peeta." She'd said last year, "But what counts is the meaning, isn't?" She had added with a smile.

* * *

BANG

I am snapped awake too quickly for my liking as fear strikes the pit of my chest. I swallow and as soon as I can gather my thougths I twist down to grab the gun under my mattress. The front door ripped apart with a sickening tear and I am suddenly awake, flinging myself behind the door.

breathe in, breathe out.

My breathing was suddenly too loud, every movement too clumsy. The weight of the footsteps on the stairs stops my heart with every-creak, causes me to grip harder onto the gun. The intruder first tries to force open the lock but when that proves unsuccessful he slams open the door like he had the first.

Too terrified to think straight, I hide behind two huge buckets of soup and point the shaking pistol at the tall man in front of me.

My shaking fingers press on the trigger but to no avail. I miss terribly, my hope crumbling with every hit to the ceiling or the wall.

"Hold your fire!" A low growl exclaims. "Don't shoot, it's an order!"

The voice is probably from the leader. Rebels, they all have the rough accent that I knew all too well. . I shoot again and the voice yells out before I can press the trigger again-oh God. This is the end I know this is the-

"Damnit kid!" The accent grows harsher under pressure "put down your gun!"

I know that voice, I don't know where but I recognize that voice. Nonetheless I can't surrender, I've been down here too long to forget my fear of the rebels now. "No!" I scream, my voice breaking as tears bud in the back of my eyes.

"Astrid, put down your weapon so we can talk," The voice says bitterly.

"How do you know my name? How did you find me?" I shout; I'm shaking, but the adrenaline running through my veins makes me focus. I have to focus.

"I'm your mother's friend, Astrid. I came to rescue you." He says calmly, but it sounds forced; he is obviously trying to calm himself. "Listen kid, Effie is alive. Your mother is alive."

As much as I want to believe what he's saying, it's impossible. She's dead, if she was alive she wouldn't abandon me. She would have sent a message or at least let me know-no there's no way I can know he's speaking the truth. I can't trust sweet promises that will only be left bitter.

"And how would I know that you're not lying so you can kill me? How can I trust you?" My voice trembles, my heart beating its way out of my chest.

"Kid, I'm going to come in alone, without a weapon, is that alright?"

I consider this for a moment. I still have three bullets left so if he tries anything, I'll shoot him.

"Yes." I say finally, "But do it slowly." And he does. He enters the room and stands at the doorway. And I almost don't recognize him. His dirty brow hair is tied up messily, and he's wearing some kind of Rebel military uniform. But as I look into his eyes, I'm sure I'm standing in front of the person my mother trust the most: Haymitch Abernarthy.

* * *

"Haymitch?" I ask weakly. He nods. I'm safe, It's over, and Mother is alive.

"Why don't you come out from behind that shelf so I can take you to your mother?" I walk away from the shelf and stand in front of him. Haymitch approaches me and put his right hand on my shoulder. "You ok?" I nod and look up, staring into his grey eyes. He frowns, only for a second, and shakes his head. "Let's get you out of here, alright?"

As we head upstairs, five more men join our group to guard us. When I step out the house, the sun is so striking, so impossibly strong that I have to close my eyes.

I wrap myself around Haymitch's mid-section as the adrenaline dissipates from my veins. I can feel him tense up, obviously unsure or unused to embrace. Instead of pushing me away however, he puts his arm around my shoulder and held me. "Sun's too bright, huh kid? I had almost the same reaction when I was outside for the first time after being weeks under the ground in thirteen."

I bit my bottom lip as I thought of this information, furrowing my eyebrows together. Thirteen? Like District 13?

* * *

**A/N: So, here it is! Please read and review. I want warn you, my dear readers, that I'm not super fast on uploading new chapter. Creativity takes time. **

**I want to thank everyone who helped me putting this story together, especially my super talented Beta Fire! I love you, thank you so much for helping me!**

**See you all very soon! **


End file.
